Here comes the sun
by TheMidoriFairy
Summary: How could the brighest light become so dark and unreachable ? Harry had needed it so much, a single ray of sunlight to shine on his existence. How many more times would he have to lose it, to lose him ? Harry/Draco. Pre-Hogwarts Hogwarts Post-Hogwarts. Not exactly books compliant.
1. The eyes Mystery

**Author's note :**

 **Hello dear readers !**

 **This is my first Drarry fanfiction ; I thought I'd give it a try. I had this idea of using this as a first step towards writing a musical (one of my future projects) : I am going to try to match a song with every chapter I post. Hopefully, I'll found the time and inspiration to write some of the songs ! I hope you like the story ; and don't forget to listen to the songs while reading the chapters !**

 **I am currently rewriting all the chapters from the beginning, and reposting the new versions of it ; I wasn't at all satisfied with my work so far, so instead of giving you poorly written new chapters, I thought I would first try to start over the story I was trying to build.**

 **As usual I apologise for any mistake you may find (and the long author's note). I'm not English, but I just love to right (and read) in English, so I just try my best. Good reading everyone !**

 **Disclaimer : I do not own any of the characters, places, etc ; everything but my humble attempt at a story belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

* * *

 _How did it end up like this ? The only thing in the world his heart seemed to want was standing in front of him, and the universe had made them ennemies. It hurt in the deepest of ways to feel the hatred he had for this horrible cause the other one stood for spread on the one he loved, inexorably, winning over his determination not to let it happen ; but what hurt even more was to see in those eyes that the one he had considered – did consider still – his soulmate had already lost that same fight. Those eyes burned their way to his soul ; those two stone cold, silvery eyes..._

* * *

Two curious silvery eyes.

That's what young Harry Potter saw in his dreams most of the time. He would wake up with this beautiful yet mysterious image in mind, and the strong feeling that he should go looking for them right away.

He would thus try to remember any useful detail from said dreams ; clues to help him rebuild the whole picture and put a face on the owner of those mysterious eyes. Everything else was a blur most of the time, though. All he could make out sometimes, if he thought really hard, was a faint image of green surroundings bathed in golden sunlight, and a hint of white blond.

Harry kept track of his dreams and a list of the details he remembered in the morning in a small damaged notebook, that he tucked under the mattress of his bed when he he was finished writing. No one would think of looking there, nor anywhere else in the tiny cupboard under the stairs that was his bedroom.

He wasn't allowed to wander in the other parts of the big house of 4, Privet Drive – well, except to do the chores and receive punishment for things he was pretty sure weren't forbidden to anyone but him, like asking if he could have some chocolate, too, like his cousin Dudley ; a kid that was already large enough as it was, and didn't need to eat all that much more, if you asked Harry. Scraping the floor himself once in a while might even do him some good ; Harry certainly was not the one that needed to lose weight.

In fact, he was so skinny one could almost count every single bone in his ribcage, even with his clothes on. "No food until you learn not to do this" seemed to be the Dursley family's favourite punishment, especially if Harry was to serve them the food he wasn't allowed to touch.

If only Harry had done all those things he was grounded for, he might have felt differently about his mistreatment ; but he could never explain just _how_ those things happened.

The chocolate bars he found under the table when he was forced to wash the floor after having made the terrible mistake of asking for some ; the telly that would never work for Dudley's favourite cartoons after he beat Harry up, and Aunt Petunia's meals, that would sometimes burn even though she just started cooking after she punished or insulted him. Not to mention Uncle Vernon's precious moustache that would simply disappear now and then when he got mad at him.

Harry didn't know what to think of all this. He didn't make it happen, though he did wish for it ; but it didn't make it his fault if it _actually_ took place ! It wasn't like he was some kind of magician.

It always ended up in him being locked up for days, in the dark and without a bite to eat, while uselessly claiming he didn't do a thing. Even to Harry, though – not that he would ever admit it in front of his so-called family – it was obvious these sort of miracles were, somehow, related to him ; they only ever happened when he was hurt and were always in his favor. Never was he hurt because of a mysterious event no one could explain, unlike the Dursleys. It made him believe that maybe, someone was watching for him somewhere ; and at some point, Harry started to think it might be the mysterious eyes he saw in his dreams.

Those grey eyes, open wide in surprise at the sight of him, scrutinizing him, were the closest thing Harry had to a friend. He saw them so often that he had grown attached to their sight ; the familiarity of the image comforted him, and their warm glow made him feel safe.

But in Harry's mind, it was all they were ; eyes. They didn't have a head and face to attach them to, let alone a body. And a bodyless friend was a strange thing to have, indeed. So Harry started to investigate : he would discover just who was the person hidden behind those eyes.

Other kids – _normal_ kids, living a very normal and blooming childhood – would probably play this little investigation game for a bit, then move on to the next mystery catching their attention, ever curious creatures that children are ; and the eyes would go back to being a simple dream, forgotten as soon as they opened their eyes to a new exciting day.

But Harry had _nothing_ to expect of the next dawn ; he almost feared every sunset. All they ever brought him was more misery, and at 6 years old he already had had enough for a lifetime.

His dreams, on the other hand, were the most exciting experiences he had lived so far, and he wasn't about to let that go. It was more than just a game to him ; it was something worth fighting for, something to look forward to when the world seemed determined to suck every bit of hope out of him. His dreams were his safe haven, and the eyes, his protectors.

He didn't mind so much that he was just making all this mystery up inside his head, and that it was just a dream, something that would no doubt fade away someday. He really didn't mind, because these eyes seemed so intense, so _real_ ; they made him feel scared, but curious, and somehow, he had that sort of certitude that they could only bring good things to his life.

They just _had_ to belong to someone, didn't they ? And Harry would discover who it was. He would.

So he wrote everything down in his precious little notebook, everytime he woke up having dreamed about it, everytime he remembered something new. He called it " _The Eyes Mystery_ ". It made him feel like a detective, and he loved that. Nothing better than that awaited outside of his cupboard, anyway ; if he was even allowed to get out. He did not know if he'd rather stay locked in there against his will or live the nightmare that was being in the Dursleys' presence ; but he knew for sure that those eyes were the only thing to make him feel more peaceful.

And he would write the clues, draw the images, put the pieces together, on the dirty pages held together by an old and torn cover ; and wished with all his heart that another miracle would happen and lead him to the mysterious eyes.

* * *

 _Here comes the sun – The Beatles (Dream Draco to Harry)_

Harry was in a forest. Not a thick and gloomy forest, he noted ; the trees weren't too close to one another, and the foliage above let a confortable amount of sunshine reach the grass.

Harry looked around. He could hear distant voices, but their owners were nowhere to be seen. They must have been gathered somewhere near, by the edge of the trees. There ; he could see their shadows from afar.

He had the odd feeling of having seen it all before, and more than once. Suddenly it occurred to him : it was The Dream again. Harry felt a surge of excitement, followed closely by disappointment. He knew what came next ; he would see the mysterious eyes and their equally mysterious owner, who would stare curiously at him for an everlasting moment, until Harry finally decided to speak only to be drawn back to reality before he could make a sound, and it would all be gone in the morning.

But no ; things felt different this time. Harry had a feeling this dream wouldn't unfold the way the others did. For a start, he should already be seeing them by now...

Suddenly he felt them ; the eyes, staring right at his back, as if trying to dig a hole into it. He turned around quickly, a smile spreading on his face, just in time to see them hide away behind a near tree.

His eyes traveled from the spot where the eyes had just been a second ago, to the tree behind which they were now hiding. A small, pale hand was resting on the trunk, and a few strands of white blond hair were visible at the edge of it, waving slightly in the cool breeze. Then an ear appeared from behind the tree, slowly, barely visible under the pale locks ; and finally, there it was again, a wide grey eye alight with curiosity, shining just above a rosy cheek. Harry's heart leapt ; he had found them. This time, they wouldn't go away, he could feel it. He would be able to speak, and he would remember. Feeling bold at that thought, he gave an encouraging smile and took a step forward, but the tiny figure crept back behind the tree in a rush. Harry heard his own voice rise before he realised he was speaking.

"Don't be scared", he tried, wishing he could see the child properly, and this time, remember their face. Very surprisingly, it worked ; though not quite the way Harry had hoped.

"Scared ?!" came an outraged, high pitched voice from behind the tree. Soon followed the very whole body of a young boy. Harry drew in a deep breath.

The boy was very thin, but not scrawny like Harry was, and full of a kind of unearthly grace. His pale skin seemed almost translucent under the rays of light shining between the high leaves ; except for his face, which was flushed under the smooth, blond hair, ruffled by the wind. He wore an expression of defiance on his pointy features, though there was a hint of hesitancy in his movements. He really was a sight to behold.

"I'm not scared", he added in a smug tone. "Malfoys don't know fear".

Looking quite taken aback, Harry pondered on that.

"What's a Malfoy ?" He timidly asked after a moment.

The other stared at him for a minute ; then he burst out laughing. He didn't seem scared at all anymore, Harry noted. He smiled sheepishly, ashamed that he didn't know something he obviously should have.

"It's my name, silly." Harry looked at him oddly. That was a weird name.

"Then why did you say Malfoy _S_?" he asked, insisting on the plural. "Is there several of you ?" The concept seemed to worry Harry a bit. The Malfoy smirked.

"Oh, yes, there are a lot of Malfoys." Harry's eyes grew wider, and the boy laughed again. "It's my _family_ name, stupid. I'm Draco." And the boy took two steps forwards and held out his hand in front of Harry, who looked very relieved that there was only one of him. He would never admit it, but he hated the idea of other people meeting the mysterious grey eyes ; it was _his_ mysterious dream friend. Harry took the hand and shook it happily.

"It's nice to meet you." Draco kept his hand for a second, apparently expecting something.

"Well, don't you have a name ?" He finally asked.

"Oh ! Well, my aunt usually calls me "cockroach" or "parasite", or just "him". My cousin gets "pumpkin", so I think I'm better off than him, somehow ; though I do live in a cupboard under some stairs..." He added the last bit as an afterthought.

Draco was regarding him with shock.

"Wow, what kind of a life is that ? You live in a cupboard ? With your whole family ? How poor can you be ?" The thought made him shudder. He had unconsciously let go of Harry's hand a bit suddenly.

"I'm _not_ !" Harry protested, noticing the backward movement. "I mean... the cupboard is my bedroom. But my aunt and uncle own a big house. I'm just not allowed in much. They kind of hate me, I guess." He shrugged. The boy had lost his expression of disgust ; he looked rather concerned.

"Why ?"

"Don't know. I never thought about it, really, it's been like that since forever. Knowing why wouldn't make a difference, would it ?"

"Were are your parents ? Why don't you live with them ?" Harry shifted unconfortably.

"Died in a car crash..." he mumbled.

"Oh... uh, sorry." Poor Draco seemed quite lost. Harry shrugged again. For a minute, they both stared at the floor.

"What's a car crash ?" Draco added after a while. Harry stared at him with a blank expression.

"Well... car accident, you know... it's when a car crashes into another car, or into a wall or a tree, and then the people inside are hurt and usually they die..."

Draco's pointy features reflected Harry's blank face. There was an akward silence, during which they eyed each other with odd expressions. Then Draco took a deep breath and decided to break it.

"Hey, wanna see something cool ?"

"Yeah, alright", Harry said. He followed with an interested gaze the other boy's movements, who had not waited for Harry's approval to begin. The blond kid was picking up a single leaf and held it in front of his face. Harry studied it carefully, but noticed nothing. He opened his mouth to ask what he was supposed to be looking at, when the leaf suddenly caught fire. Harry's eyes grew wide.

"H-how did you do that ?" Draco wore a smug expression.

"Can't tell", he taunted.

"Come on !" Harry insisted.

"Nah. It's a secret." Harry pouted, and Draco let a small laugh escape. "Here, let me show you again." And Harry watched Draco burn a few other fallen leaves with great enthusiasm. It looked like his miracles ; or even like magic. Harry loved mysteries, especially when it involved magic ; and they rarely did.

Now and then, Draco would set on fire leaves that were still on a tree, and Harry would protest. "Hey, don't do that !" he would whine. "The leaves up there are still living. And you could burn the whole tree, and the forest ! It's dangerous." Draco would smirk and ruffle Harry's hair.

"Poor little darling", he told him when Harry admonished him for the fourth time. "It's alright, I won't hurt your little forest." Harry pouted and crossed his arm, turning away from Draco.

"Hey", Draco said softly, resting a hand on his shoudler. "It's really gonna be alright, you know. With your aunt and stuff." Harry faced him. "We'll get back at them for making you live under the stairs." He gave an encouraging smile, which reflected on the black haired boy's face ; he had noticed the use of the "we" from his friend.

"And then I'll get chocolate without being beaten up for eating some ?" Harry asked in a small voice. Draco's smile grew wider, a gentle light in his silver eyes.

"Sure", he answered. "You'll get all the chocolate you want." That made Harry's face light up even more, and Draco ruffled his hair again, more fondly this time.

"Oh, crap", Draco exclaimed suddenly. "Father's gonna be furious. It's almost dark. He's probably looking for me now. I have to go." And with that, he rushed towards the edge of the trees, where the voices Harry had heard earlier came from.

He looked helplessly at the escaping figure, wishing for the dream not to end, almost forgetting it was a dream at all ; when the boy suddenly turned back and gave Harry a wicked smile. "I'll see you around, parasite", he winked. Harry felt the smile grow back on his face and he waved at the disappearing boy. His surroundings became blurry, but Harry wasn't worried ; that was what happened to dreams, after all. But the boy's features, this time, didn't fade.

That morning, Harry woke up with a smile. It would be all right.

* * *

 **I hope you liked this new version of chapter one ! Reviews are very welcome ;)**


	2. You have a friend in me

**Author's note :**

 **There you go, I rewrote chapter two ! I only changed details in this one, though, that I'll explain at the end of the chapter (no spoilers for those who haven't read the first version !)**

 **It's chapters 3 and 4 that will have more changes, I think.**

 **I hope you still like it ; enjoy ! Reviews are very welcome :)**

 **Disclaimer : I do not own the characters, places, etc.**

* * *

 _You Got A Friend In Me – Toy Story_

 _(Draco's point of view)_

"For you !" declared a proud voice.

Harry turned on his heels, and was greeted by a chocolate bar held in long pale fingers.

"Chocolate !" he exclaimed happily. He took the bar avidly and gave Draco a smile full of teeth. "Thank you", he said before taking a huge bite off the candy.

He stopped mid-chewing as a thought occurred to him, and, suddenly looking miserable, he glanced at the blond boy and back at his chocolate bar.

"What ?" asked Draco in a tone that hesitated between concerned and angry. "Don't you like it ? Did I choose wrong ?" Finally settling for a scowl and crossing his arm defiantly, he added in a disdainful tone : " If it's all the chocolate you'll get, you could at least pretend to appreciate it."

Harry looked mortified by the accusation. "No, it's..." he tried, but his words got stuck in his throat at the angry look on Draco's face. His gaze fell to the tip of his shoes as he spoke in a small voice.

"I just thought it wasn't fair that I didn't get you anything."

That melted Draco's mask of contempt away. "I already have everything", he muttered shamefully after a moment of silent surprise. "Just eat it."

Harry nodded and sat down, savouring the taste of the sweet he could so seldom have, happy to enjoy the mysterious boy's silent company. He licked his fingers and folded the wrap carefully in his pocket, under Draco's watchful gaze.

"Where are we ?" he asked when he was finished.

This wasn't the same forest as last time, or at least not the same part of it. This one had a small clearing in which they were seated, and Harry could hear the gentle swirl of a river nearby. The tree leaves swayed gently under a slight breeze warmed by the afternoon sun.

"Dunno", was Draco's answer. "I always follow father to wherever he has a business meeting ; says I have to start learning now, but when we arrive he usually sends me wandering around while he does who knows what."

"A business meeting ? In a forest ? What for ?" Draco shrugged, uninterested.

"It's grown-ups business, I'm keeping away from that. I'm gonna be a kid forever, you know."

Harry laughed heartily.

"I don't think that's possible. And if it was, I wouldn't want to stay a child. Grown-ups can choose what they do, and I promise you, as soon as I can I'll choose to get out of that cupboard, and of the whole house, too. I wish I could escape right now, but a kid's got to obey. Grown-ups don't."

Draco pulled a face. "You just like to contradict me, don't you. What are you doing here, anyway ? Is your fath... uncle on a business meeting, too ? Do you think he could be talking to Father right now ?"

Harry shook his head and stared at the floor, arms around his brought-up knees.

"No, I'm here on my own. I was just... looking for a place to escape", he half-lied. He didn't want to tell the other boy that he had no idea how he got there, let alone that he was convinced to be in a dream. If he admitted that, his friend might disappear, and Harry was afraid he would never see him again.

Draco nodded knowingly.

"I know how that feels", he said very seriously. Harry giggled.

"What ?" the blond asked indignantly. Harry turned on his seat to face him, his expression now one of seriousness.

"You keep saying you have everything you need. What's there to escape ?"

Draco contemplated for a minute. He didn't look as Harry cocked his head to the side, suddenly very curious to know the answer. What more could this boy possibly need ?

He spoke in a distant voice.

"Well... Mother and Father really spoil me. I barely need to ask for anything before I have it. But they're never here for me. I'm always left on my own. Sure, Mother's caring, and Father is... well, Father is quite undemonstrative. And when his "business meetings" bring their children along, they don't want to play with me so much. They call me bossy." He scowled.

Harry lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, you are a bit bossy." The blond straigthened up briskly, as if stung.

"I'm not ! Take that back !" he barked. Harry only grinned at him, not impressed in the slightest.

"See ? Bossy."

He stuck out his tongue and laughed at Draco's nonplussed face. The blond boy tried to make a face, but he could barely contain the grin spreading on his pointy features, until he gave in and laughed with Harry.

"I bet you have plenty of friends", Draco stated when their hilarity died down, somewhat more bitterly than he had intended. Harry studied him, startled.

"Why ?"

"You're interesting. And you're nice. People like that."

"No, they don't", Harry said firmly. "Someone nice is a wuss."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that, but Harry went on.

"They watch Dudley beat me up, and then they laugh. That's the only thing they find interesting about me. I'm not certain that qualifies as being friends", he added with a scoff.

Silence fell on the two boys. Draco slowly raised a hand to pat the dark-haired boy's head, somewhat awkwardly.

"I'm your friend", he finally murmured, so low Harry wondered if he actually heard right. He raised his head, face blank, tiny fingers still brushing in his untidy hair, and two intense green eyes immersed in the blond's silvery pools, searching his face for a clue that he didn't imagine the words.

Draco held Harry's gaze for a minute that felt like forever, until he saw a warm smile slowly spread on the brunette's face, and he felt his heart mirror it. He could definitely get used to making people smile like that. He grinned and pushed Harry's face playfully.

"So who's that... Dudley, uh ?" he asked.

"Oh", Harry muttered, spreading his legs on the grass. The whole clearing bathed in the sun now, and the boys felt more like lying on the floor than sitting with their backs on a trunk. "He's my cousin."

"Aaah, pumpkin, right ?" Draco said, lying down too, resting his head on his elbow. He picked up a twig between two fingers and made it twirl before his eyes.

"That's the one", Harry confirmed. "He's about the size of... that huge tree stump over there."

"Scary", Draco shuddered. "He's _massive_."

"Quite massive, yeah."

"And you survive living with this brute ?"

"Well, you know, he's stupid", Harry stated, imitating Draco's twirling twig with a blade of grass. "I manage to escape him often enough. It's my aunt and uncle I fear most. They're evil."

He sighed and let go of the grass, head falling back to the ground. They both gazed at the sky, counting the few white vaporous clouds.

Draco's hesitant voice broke the silence.

"You know, there's plenty of room at the manor."

Harry tilted his head to look intently at the blond, who rolled on his side to gaze down at him.

"You live in a manor ?"

At that, Draco grinned.

"I do. And it feels a bit lonely, being in this big house all by myself. Plenty of space left empty, enough for two kids instead of one, if you ask me. I could always beg Mother and Father to let you live with us." With that, he smiled hopefully down at Harry.

The dark-haired boy's heart clenched.

He lay his head back on the ground, a lump in his throat. He would give anything to go away from the Dursleys, especially if it meant living with his new friend instead. But he knew he was only dreaming. He had closed his eyes in his bedroom after the sky went dark, and had opened them in this clearing bathed in sunshine. No one could teleport, let alone travel in time. And when Draco would leave him to go back to his father again, the forest would blur once more, and Harry would be back in his cupboard under the stairs.

Suddenly he turned to Draco, feeling the urge to cling onto him in the hope it would prevent him from disappearing again ; but the blond was gone already. Harry sat up straight, searching madly all around him, but the world was dark ; there was nothing to see.

Harry felt a sudden change in the atmosphere ; he took a deep breath and choked, feeling space narrowing around him, until he suffocated completely. It took him several minutes to adjust to the tiny room after being so suddenly torn from the vast and open clearing, and though he finally managed to calm his breathing, he couldn't cope with the void he felt in the pit of his stomach at the memory of his friend disappearing so brutally. His throat tightened, and he fought back the tears.

The dreams felt wonderful, but the backlash was worse than a nightmare ; because it was the only real part in all this. Harry fell back into his shabby pillow and gave in to his despair, tears running silently down his face.

* * *

Harry was only a child, yet his life was already a dreadful routine. Wake up, make breakfast for everyone, have the leftovers to eat, clean one of the house's room, have the leftovers to eat, take care of the garden, have the leftovers to eat, have a shower, go to sleep in your cupboard, have nightmares. Wake up. Make breakfast, and have the leftovers to eat. Be punished for things you didn't do, so you'll remember not to do it again. Never a smile adressed to him. Never _anything_ adressed to him other than orders or insults. Go to bed in your cupboard. Have nightmares. Wake up.

After waking up that morning, Harry had prepared breakfast. Breakfast had burnt.

He had cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes. Two plates and a glass had broken.

He had mown the lawn. The mower had broken down, nearly exploded and sent freshly cut grass all over the windows.

He had cleaned up the windows. The glass had shattered.

His so-called "family" had been about to break down, too – which would have been just fine for him - and he had been sent to his cupboard for a yet unknown amount of time ; he had been drawing a pair of silver eyes in his worn-out notebook ever since.

It had been five days since his only friend had disappeared from his view right before he himself had been torn away from his own dream, and the watchful eyes hadn't reappeared in his uncouncious yet.

Harry felt desperate.

If he no longer had this to look forward to, then what did he have ?

Not even the leftovers to eat.

He shot a furious look at the door as he heard Duldey's voice whispering "Freak !" through the keyhole before rushing to the living room and throwing himself on the couch, by the sound of it. He did that a lot, lately ; since he couldn't beat Harry to near death while the latter was trapped under the stairs, he had had to find another outlet.

Harry felt tired of all this. The holidays were a nightmare, but school was no better. He needed to get out of it all ; wasn't a kid supposed to have fun ? Why was he always the one to suffer ; the one that was left _alone_.

He felt tired, so tired... and his body felt so heavy... so did his eyelids... so did everything.

Until it didn't anymore.

Grey eyes.

Grey eyes filled with deep surprise.

Harry didn't think twice ; he flung himself at the blond figure, feeling all weight removed from his chest at once, head pressed into the taller boy's chest, hands grabbing the back of his shirt ; and he clung to him like he would to dear life.

Draco merely blinked.

He patted Harry's back gently and tried to lift his head to face him, but Harry only groaned, pressing himself firmly against the blond, refusing to let go. Draco chuckled incredulously at the display.

"Hey", he managed to articulate ; Harry's grip was making it hard to breathe. "Hey, little darling, what are you doing ?"

Harry shook his head sharply.

"Come on, what's going on ?"

Harry stood still.

"I'll give you chocolate", Draco sung in his ear.

Slowly, Harry released his grasp on the thin body. Draco placed a hand under his chin and lifted gently, so he could finally look into the brunette's emeralds. He immediately frowned.

"Why are you crying ?" he demanded.

Harry remained silent, challenging. He wasn't about to tell ; he had shown enough weakness as it was.

Draco let out an upset sigh. "Alright, don't tell me. Maybe you could explain what you're doing here instead."

His tone had Harry worried. He looked around. It looked like a garden ; maybe a park ? There were high trees here and there, surrounded by beautiful patches and bushes of colorful flowers. The grass was short and soft, an almost glowing shade of green. He could see the outlines of several greenhouses from afar, and a stone path led between deeper rows of trees.

"Uh... were are we ?"

Draco raised an irritated eyebrow at that.

" _You_ are in _my_ garden", he stated.

Harry looked completely panicked now. He took another look around, more frantically this time. What if Draco's Father found him ? He sounded like a real scary dad.

But then he remembered. He was in a dream. What could possibly happen ? Relaxing a little, he turned his gaze back to the blond still watching him intently.

"Wow, that's big. So you really live in a manor. That's cool !"

Draco's scowl deepened.

"And how did you get here ?"

Harry tried to look everywhere but at him ; but he felt drawn to the steely eyes.

"Uh..."

" _Well_ ?"

Draco started tapping his foot, managing to bring the panick back in Harry.

"I- I don't kn-know, okay ? I don't – know", he stuttered.

"What do you mean, you don't _know_ ? How can you _not_ know ?"

Harry felt trapped. His friend would think he was crazy ; but then again he was an _imaginary_ friend. Without quite thinking, he stammered.

"Uh, well, I, I closed my eyes, and then I, I was just here, and I saw you, and uh, I was so relieved 'cause, last time, you had just disappeared and I thought, I thought I had lost you, so I was just happy to see you, but, you know, I have no idea how I got here, I didn't know it was your home, I thought we were in a forest like the other times, and..."

He trailed off, eyeing the bond guiltily.

"I just didn't want to lose my friend", he added in a quiet voice.

Draco looked utterly confused ; he clearly didn't know how to react to Harry's helplessness. He pulled him into an awkward hug, rubbing the brunette's back, and spoke timidly.

"I- I'm here. 's okay now. I'm right here."

Harry pulled him closer, pressing his head against the blond's chest. Draco could feel him grinning ; he chuckled.

Suddenly remembering Harry's words, he pushed him away gently, a frown on his face.

"It was you who disappeared the other day, not me."

"But -" Harry tried ; but Draco cut him off.

"I asked you if you wanted to come with me to the manor, and suddenly you looked all around as if something was attacking you or something, and then your were gone. I called after you, but..."

At that, Draco looked embarassed.

"You never came back", he muttered finally.

"I don't... I was... looking around for you", answered the dark haired boy, looking amazed.

"That's odd. I never left your side. And you were gone, just like that. The way you keep popping up, and disappearing.. Pansy said", he chuckled at what he was about to say, shaking his head as if to mock the idea ; "Pansy said you don't even exist and you're my imaginary friend. She said I was just dreaming and you were never there. That girl's nuts."

He raised his head, only to meet Harry's blank face. He frowned.

"What is it ? Did I say something wrong ?"

Harry slowly shook his head, as if waking up from a daydream.

"I'm alright", he said confidently. "So uh, what were you doing before I got here ?"

Draco hesitated ; there were things he wasn't supposed to tell. He had already crossed a line with the burning leaves that first time... On the other hand, the way he kept appearing and disappearing without even knowing how he got there... he could be a wizard, for all Draco knew. He most probably were, seeing as he was now in his parents' garden without a good explanation of how he got there. But to risk it... he just couldn't imagine Father's reaction if he were to hear about this.

"Nothing, just enjoying the outdoors", he finally said, shrugging. "You know, sunshine and all that."

"Oh, come on !" Harry pressed on. "I want to play with you. I never get to play with anyone." He pouted pleadingly at the silent blond. "Please ?"

"Okay", Draco finally sighed ; "what do you wanna play ?"

Harry gave him a brilliant smile.

"We can do whatever you were doing, it's fine. I just want to play with another kid for once."

"I told you", Draco insisted, slightly annoyed. "I wasn't doing anything in particular."

Harry pouted once more, until a malicious smile spread across his face.

"You could teach me how you set those leaves on fire ?"

The blond scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come _on_ !" Harry gave an exaggerated sigh, rising his arms to the air to let them fall back down to his sides. "You're no fun. And still _bossy_."

Draco scoffed, but said nothing. Harry watched him impatiently ; the blond was examining his fingernails disinterestedly. Harry gave in.

"Alright ! Then..." He scanned his surroundings. "Oh, I know, do you have a swing set ?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking as if Harry had spoken another language.

"Uh... no", he answered carefully.

"You're kidding ? You have a _manor,_ with a garden probably as big as a zoo – well, I mean, I guess – and you don't have a swing set in it ? Even Mrs Figg has a swing set in her garden !"

Draco's confusion made him forget to be irritated at the tone.

"Who's Mrs Figg ?"

"My creepy neighbour. _She_ has a swing set." Harry looked around thoughtfully as the blond rolled his eyes. "Maybe a sandbox, then ? The other kids never let me even get _near_ it at school."

"What would you do with a sandbox ?" Draco frowned.

Harry gave him a helpless look.

"Play with the sand ? Build castles ? Throw it at the other kids when they shoot your north tower ?"

"Why would I build a castle in sand ? How does one live in a castle made out of sand ? I already have a manor !"

At that, Harry gave up.

"What kind of a child are you ?" he muttered, shaking his head.

Draco would have loved to answer that one, but he would get in trouble if Father or Mother caught him. Hell, he would be in trouble if they saw the brunette in their garden. He was lucky they weren't home, but if they got back and his friend was still here...

Meanwhile, Harry was getting desperate with Draco's ignorance. But how could Draco know any muggle game ? Father would likely curse him if he knew any. Draco would probably curse himself, too. Maybe this kid wasn't a wizard, after all.

"I _know_ ! Let's just play tag."

Forgetting all previous concerns, Draco turned to the brunette, face blank. Play _what_?

Harry seemed to understand the confusion on the blond's features ; his smile fell, replaced by sheer despair.

"You don't know how to play tag", he stated, dumbfounded. Draco shook his head, looking ashamed. _Ashamed_.

What was _wrong_ with him ?

"Even _I_ know how to play tag. And I _never_ get to play."

The blond stared at his shoes, obviously embarassed.

"Can you... can you teach me ?" he asked sheepishly. Now _that_ was going to please Father, he thought bitterly. He would have thought along the same lines, but somehow the other boy's enthusiasm at playing with him swept everything else away.

Harry gave an exaggerated sigh ; but inwardly, he was thrilled. Finally, he got to be a real kid.

"Sure", he answered evenly. "One of us has to catch the other, that tries to escape, and when he does, he says "you're it", and then it's the other's turn to chase the first. Got it ?"

"Uh..." Was that even a game ? What was the fun in that ? Draco could just get his broom, catch the running muggle, and be done with it. But no ; his friend wanted to play, and Draco was willing to make him happy, however unusual that might be for him.

"Okay", he finally answered. "...you better run, then !" he added in a mischievous voice, taking a quick step towards the brunette. The latter squeaked in surprise and rushed down the path, successfully escaping Draco's grip. He ran after him, the both of them sprinting through the trees, giggling when Draco nearly grabbed the back of Harry's shirt, the brunette jumping to the side or leaning forward to avoid the long fingers.

Suddenly, Draco leapt forward, aiming the dark-haired boy's back, and successfully making him trip. The blond landed on the scrawny boy as they rolled on the soft grass in a pile of lean limbs, out of breath but giggling all the same.

"You're – it !" Draco breathed out triumphantly, causing Harry to laugh yet again.

"I th – think you got the – game", Harry managed to stammer from underneath the blond. "You're a bit – _heavy_ , though", he added in a breath.

Draco rolled off him at once, scowl in place, and got to his feet.

"I'm _what_ ?" he growled, as Harry inhaled deeply.

"Sorry", Harry chuckled, standing up as well, "I couldn't breathe. You were crushing my lungs with yours."

"Are you saying I have big lungs ?" demanded an indignant Draco. That had Harry's laugh intensify, making Draco frown deeper.

"They're – just not – _meant_ – to land on other people like that", the brunette managed to articulate. "You nearly killed me there."

Draco scoffed at that.

"That's because you're so thin", he grumbled, "the _wind_ could crush you. I bet if you get in a fight with a bird, the bird wins."

It was Harry's turn to be indignant.

"It does not !"

"It does."

"Does not !"

"Does."

"I'm not weak !" Harry cried in protest. "I'm super strong. Look how heavy I can be."

With that, he grabbed Draco's back and tried to heave himself on the boy's shoulders.

"Bet you can't even carry me", he rattled on, struggling to climb on the blond's back.

Draco sighed deeply, but all his annoyance was forgotten with Harry's vain attempts. He flexed his knees, bending forward, and grabbed the brunette's legs, successfully heaving him on his back.

"Feather light", he sung, ignoring his friend's panicked "put me down"s. "It's like I'm carrying a tiny little bug on my back. Look, I can even run."

With that, he trotted through the trees, laughing heartily at Harry's shrieking.

"Hold on, going faster !" he shouted behind him ; and he raced down the path, the other boy clinging to him for his life. "It's fun, huh ?"

Only a muffled sound answered him ; Harry had burried his head on Draco's shoulder.

"Open your eyes ! Come on, open 'em !" he shouted breathlessly.

He felt Harry's head shaking against his shoulder blades.

"Come on ! You'll love it !"

Slowly, Harry raised his head, peeking above Draco's shoulder. Draco was running fast, almost effortlessly ; they could feel the wind on their faces. The brunette had to admit it was a wonderful sensation. He rested his chin on the blond's shoulder, still gripping him tightly.

"Feels like flying", Harry shouted against the wind.

Draco smiled.

* * *

The shock was too great for Harry to take.

He had been dragged around London by his aunt and uncle, but not for him, no ; they all went out to buy new clothes for Dudley. He had "grown _so_ much, my sweet little Dudders" - which meant he had gained too much weight and could no longer put his trousers on ; and Harry was to inherit them, even though he needed to add holes to any standard belt to hold them in place on his own waist.

The Dursleys didn't trust him to be left alone in their house ; because he was a freak.

So he had been forced to walk through London, listening to Aunt Petunia rant about how Dudley would look so handsome in those brand new pants ; and how about buying a sweater or two, because she knew _just the shop_ where they would find the _perfect_ shirts to go with those _lovely_ trousers. Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon took it upon himself to remind Harry that he was an embarassement to their family, that he should be thankful that they had agreed to take him – not that the boy had ever asked – and that he got to wear Dudley's old clothes now that he didn't need them – couldn't put them on – anymore.

All in all, a joyful day.

That was when he saw them.

Somewhere to his left, a man was complaining between his teeth about fireplaces that didn't work and having to go shopping like a simple Muggle ; but despite the spitefulness and weirdness of his words, Harry only had eyes for the smaller being struggling to follow the tall man.

Cautious grey eyes.

Harry stopped short, his own green orbs set on the blond boy.

He wasn't real. It was all a coincidence.

Except it wasn't.

Grey eyes looked around, locked with his own, and widened. The thin mouth dropped open. The feet stopped moving.

He wasn't a dream.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched in a hesitant smile, mirrored by pointy features across the street. Silver orbs shone brighter under the blond locks ; and behind the glasses, so did the emerald ones.

And they both jumped in fright when they were ripped from their silent exchange by a rough hand on a shoulder, bringing both oblivious boys back to reality.

One dragged ruthlessly away as a voice full of contempt instructed him to stop playing the fool in the middle of the street because _people might talk, you freak._

The other roughly turned around to face a livid blond man with long and pointy features just like his ; and though he did not speak a word, Draco knew precisely what made Father this furious, and what awaited him once they were back in the wizarding world.

As Harry turned his desperate gaze back to his very real friend, he discovered the look of pure terror in the usually so bright grey eyes.

A hollow formed at the pit of his stomach. He felt empy.

The shock was too great to take.

* * *

 _Happy Ending – Mika_

 _(Harry's point of view)_

"This is a private property."

Harry replied in a confident voice.

"It didn't bother you last time."

Inside, he felt the opposite of confident.

"You'll have to stop coming."

Draco wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Why ?"

Harry meant to say this defiantly ; it sounded pleading even to his own ears.

"Because I can't be your friend. Go."

Tone unconvinced ; eyes still fixed to the floor.

"I won't. We're friends. I'm not leaving."

For a minute, the blond seemed to gather himself. Finally, he lifted his head to meet Harry's eyes. It wasn't a slow movement ; it was a quick, sudden one, as were his words.

"You are not good enough for me. I deserve better than this friendship, and I _will_ have better than this friendship. You are a _Muggle_ , and I am _superior_ to _you_. Go _away_."

Haughty face. Firm voice. Tone full of contempt. Words spat.

Harry felt rooted to the spot. He could not move, could not talk ; he could not process what had just been said to his face, nor register that he had no idea what a muggle was, or what his friend meant by being superior and all that.

This stillness didn't last long. Soon enough, the dream – or was it ? - dissolved around him, bringing Harry back to the reality of his dark cupboard and the Dursleys shouting something along the lines of _not falling asleep in the middle of day, supposed to be cleaning Dudley's room_ , his gaze still hooked to the disappearing sight of a tear escaping glistening but determined grey eyes.

It wasn't until five years later, after discovering the truth about himself and learning about the wizarding world, that Harry saw them again.

Long face, slender body, short pale hair smoothed back on his head, superior smirk in place, his hand extended in friendship, there stood Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 **Author's note :**

 **In this new version, Draco is not in a dream. It was my original idea that only Harry was asleep, and somehow managed to transfer his conciousness in dreams to where Draco was. But since they always met in broad daylight and Harry fell asleep at night, it didn't match.**

 **In this chapter, though, Harry falls asleep in the middle of the day the two last times, which makes it possible for him to meet Draco during the day while Draco is not asleep. For their first two meetings, in forests that are not named nor placed anywhere precisely, I decided that it would be in a foreign country where it would still be day ; after all, wizards can travel much more easily than we do, so it is possible.**

 **I also changed the fact that Lucius yelled at Draco on the street ; it was enough trouble for him about secrecy that he muttered about fireplaces and muggles ; I thought making him shout these informations was not wise, and very unlikely of the character, no matter how furious he was.**

 **There you go, for the major changes of this chapter ! I hope you liked it, don't hesitate to review !**


	3. Enemies

**Author's note :**

 **Here you go, the final version of chapter 3 ! I hope you enjoy it ; it finally starts to make sense to me. Next is chapter 4, and then I can go on with the story ! I really can't wait !**

 **Thanks to everyone who has reviewed ; I'm sorry to make you wait this long for new chapters. Please keep reading, I'll do my best so you keep enjoying the story !**

 **And if you do, reviews are very welcome :) !**

* * *

 _Elton John – Sorry seems to be the hardest word_

 _(Draco's POV)_

Draco Malfoy was a mess.

Inwardly, of course.

His own thoughts didn't even know where to start on this. The rejection – very painful, that one ; his pride would bear the scar forever – or the fact that the only true friend he had ever had in his life (a friend he had believed to be imaginary until right before he had lost him) was Harry freaking Potter.

And the very author of said rejection.

Well done, Draco, you screwed up your own life without even trying.

At eleven years old.

He still wasn't sure what he had been thinking, offering his friendship – well, more like a place in his circle, really – to the Boy-Who-Lived. He'd taken it for granted, really ; he was the finest of the finest, the most famous wizard that had ever lived, and Draco, the only Malfoy heir, purest of the purebloods, deserved at _least_ that.

The scarred boy definitely didn't have the finest _hair_ , Draco thought with a snort.

Maybe he just wanted to make Father proud. It was always about Father, one way or another.

But Father was never proud.

Draco had been raised like a prince ; he had been raised to believe himself worthy of what was best.

But he had also been raised to disregard his own feelings or pleasures – as a child, games were replaced by books and lessons – to see no more in people than what they could provide him, to see worth where wealth and power were.

He had never fully understood the meaning of those things until that day.

His life had changed then. Lucius had been livid ; his own son had shown kindness – no, _fondness_ – towards a muggle, one of the foulest of sins for a pureblood ; and publicly, no less. It didn't matter that he was six ; he was supposed to act like the heir of a powerful wizarding family he was.

He had been yelled at ; he had been grounded ; he had been spoken to in the iciest tone he had ever heard ; he had been ignored completely ; he had been hexed ; and he had been punished again, in all possible ways. He was a Malfoy. He was to dedicate his life to live up to what was expected of him, and even more ; he was to honor his name. A Malfoy knew how to behave, publicly _and_ in private ; he knew to controle his own emotions, to show nothing of it, and to manipulate others to get just what he wanted, but never to trust them.

And Draco did. He did everything he was asked to do, and was spoiled in return, with all the riches his Father could get him, like he always had been. But he never had love, not from Father, not from anyone. He never really had respect or pride from him, either.

And it seemed he wasn't about to. He gritted his teeth, remembering how he had let his features twist in shock and anger, both at the realisation of who was in front of him, and at being so coldly disregarded. For one fleeting moment, he had thought that maybe, just maybe, he _could_ have his friend back. He had barely restrained from saying what he'd wanted to since the very moment the scrawny boy had left his garden all those years ago. Draco would have thought he'd learned to block out all emotions since that precise day. It seemed Harry Potter was still his one weakness.

He shuddered as the word crossed his thoughts .You're not _weak_ , he told himself firmly. You're a Malfoy. Act like one.

Merlin, this was tiring.

He chose not to even reflect on being tossed aside in favor of a Weasley. Those stinking redheads, blood traitors, with no wealth or influence, and with definitely no pride – and Potter had chosen of _them_ over _Draco_ ? He sniffed disdainfully at how disgusting and humiliating that very thought was.

He vaguely remembered thinking Potter was a muggle, as a child. It hadn't seem such a bad thing, then. But it wasn't the same ; Draco wasn't the same. He was a different person now, all grown-up. Well, compared to when he was six years old.

Draco inwardly sighed. Sitting across from him in the Hogwarts Express were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, wearing identical expressions of confusion. Disgraces to all purebloods, those two. There wasn't the tiniest flicker of light up there. Yet, Draco was glad it had been them with him in that compartment earlier, and not, say, Pansy Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle were easily impressed and manipulated, and they had dumbly stood by Draco, barely understanding the scene before them. They wouldn't say a word about it, Draco was sure. Pansy, on the other hand... she was a clever and nosy girl, and her tongue was as sharp as Draco's. Had she been there, he would still be suffering from the added humiliation of her loud comments. He could even picture her expression of feigned innocence.

But enough with the brooding, he commanded himself. His mind was not to be plagued by anything on this special day, not even by _this_.

Today, he would finally be able to prove himself as a wizard. He would be the brightest student Hogwarts had ever seen, he knew that for certain. He would inspire respect and fear to his peers, and honor his name ; and Father would be proud.

Finally, Father would truly be proud.

He would not let Harry Potter and his stupid hair, stupid face, stupid glasses and stupid scar get in the way of his triumph.

No matter how determined he was not to do that, he spent the rest of the trip getting more angry and spiteful every second at the thought of The Chosen One.

* * *

 _1st year_

"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin..."

Definitely not Slytherin.

Seated at Griffindor table, where he had finally been welcomed with opened arms and deafening screams of joy – to his absolute surprise – Harry felt his stomach twist in a mixture of pure happiness and pain.

He was finally were he belonged. Hogwarts, Hagrid, Ron, and all the faces beaming at him all around – It all felt like home. The feeling was brilliant ; and the pain, excruciating.

He had not let himself believe that there was something for him, somewhere ; not for years. If only he had known, all this time ; if only he had known there was something to live for, there was a world where he belonged ; if only he'd been there all along, and known.

If only Draco had known.

Grey orbs met the green ones across the immensity of the Great Hall. For one fraction of a second, it seemed like all sorts of emotions were playing across the blond boy's face.

Then the tiny bubble of hope that had built in Harry's stomach dissolved, as the silver turned stone cold and the sharp features contorted into an ugly sneer. Harry glared back, not averting his eyes ; but inwardly, he shattered again, just like he had five years ago. Just like he had in Madam Malkin's shop, when he had stepped in to get his robes and recognised the pale face all too well, and hadn't even been glanced at. He couldn't muster up the courage to make himself known, especially not when he realised this Draco was nothing like the child he used to be. He had waited, heart beating fast, for the blond to acknowledge him. It never happened.

Even worse was their short encounter on the train to Hogwarts. He had looked him straight in the eyes. And it had hit Harry hard in the face : he had forgotten him. Like Harry never had. Never could.

And now, he was smirking at him, contempt apparent on his every features, like Harry was some kind of a joke in himself, like he was below everything ; just as he'd said, that day in the garden. It definitely was like Draco wasn't the same person anymore. Like the one Harry had met in dreams all those years ago wasn't the one that was in front of him right now.

Like he really had been just that.

A dream.

Someone spoke next to him, and he tore himself out of the staring contest he had engaged with Draco. Only then did he notice the mixture of hate and pain he could feel was painted across his own face, and he struggled to compose himself.

"He's not worth your attention, Harry." Ron told him between two mouthfuls of chicken. "He's just trying to get at your nerves. No surprises there, he's a Malfoy."

A Malfoy.

" _What's a Malfoy ?"_

"Now eat up, before it all disappears. You're missing the feast !" came the redhead's voice again. Harry looked right through his half empty plate.

" _It's my family name, stupid. I'm Draco."_

But he wasn't Draco. Not anymore.

Draco was the young boy with the curious twinkling grey eyes and the mischievous smile.

That haughty boy was Malfoy. Nothing more.

And trying to get at Harry's nerves, that he was. For the following days, weeks, months, and even years ; it seemed his only purpose on earth was to make Harry's life a living hell. And Harry gladly oblidged him by firing back at any occasion.

But the sight of his silver eyes never missed to make his heart clench in his chest.

* * *

 _2nd year_

"Professor."

The familiar drawl made Severus Snape raise his head from the essays he was marking in cautious interest. He detailed the impassive face of his visitor for a moment, then gestured for him to sit, but the latter didn't spare a glance at the chair presented to him, observing his surroundings instead. Snape deliberately ignored that fact and spoke.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Malfoy ?" he asked evenly.

The blond boy was looking around the office with open disinterest ; his eyes never met Snape's as he spoke.

"I have a small request, Professor. I would appreciate it if you would stop pairing me with Potter. Sir." he answered lazily. "I fear his... extreme stupidity will affect my own abilities. We wouldn't want that to happen."

Snape just stared at him, unperturbed.

"I am well aware of Potter's lack of any functioning braincells, Mr Malfoy. Which is precisely the reason why I tend to pair him with you. You might be his only hope to maybe... awaken a few."

Draco finally faced the man.

"Why not pair me with Longbottom then ? He is at least as hopeless as Potter. Sir."

His voice was innocent and his demeanor one of disinterest, but his eyes were somewhat intense. Still, Snape dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.

"No, Longbottom is beyond hopelessness, I couldn't get through the thickness of his skull even if I paired him with myself." Snape stared at the blond boy, boring holes through his face. Draco resisted the urge to look uncomfortable, keeping his face unreadable. The man's voice was low as he spoke.

"But you wouldn't be visiting me, if there wasn't more to that request than Potter's obtuseness... Draco."

Said boy stared back, unmoving. Snape stood up with a sigh. He walked around his desk to face Draco completely.

"You haven't confided in me in years", he stated. "I may not be very... eloquent, when it comes to such things, but I am still your Godfather. And listen carefully, because I will only say this once, and it pains me greatly to have to admit to it : I care about you, Draco. We did have a connection when you were a boy, before Lucius saw it fit to crush all emotions within you, and I wish... I wish it wasn't gone. I regret the time when you talked to me. Please know that I can still be trusted. I can help you. I'm on your side."

His face suddenly lost its intensity, and his voice was even again.

"But I know you've become what your father made you. I can understand that. I am afraid your request will have to be ignored, for lack of a subsential reason for me not to. If you were to need me, though, you know where to find me."

With that he motioned to the door behind Draco, clearly indicating him to leave. The blond boy stared at him for a few moments, then turned away numbly, the shock from his Godfather's words rendering him speechless. He walked straight ahead, not daring to turn back. But as he reached the door, something made him hesitate. His back still facing Snape, he murmured :

"When I was... before – before Father could... before he did... I told you about... the friend, the possibly, not quite real one. It was... him."

He shut the door quickly, leaving Snape to gather alone the meaning of his words.

* * *

 _3rd year_

"Just wait until you see the look on his face", Draco drawled, with a hint of pride in his voice. "It's gonna be priceless, trust me."

Next to him, Crabbe and Goyle laughed stupidly, while Pansy Parkinson smirked in the same way Draco always did.

"Dressing as a dementor to make him fall off his broom. Really Draco, that's genius. I wonder where you get all these ideas."

Draco sat a bit straighter in the Slytherin common room's sofa. He kept his face from showing any trace of glee, and sighed with boredom as he answered.

"Well, I suppose I am a genius. What can I do ?"

"Dressing up as dementors", Pansy repeated, and she snorted at the thought. "Poor little darling, I bet he'll faint again... Are you okay, Draco ?" she added with concern.

For Draco's face had twisted violently at her words.

"I'm fine", he snapped. "I have to prepare carefully, or you useless people will ruin my whole plan. I'll be in my bedroom. Don't you dare bother me."

 _Little darling._

Draco had called him that. Why did it have to hurt to be reminded of this ? It shouldn't hurt. It should infuriate him. Everything about saint Potter was infuriating. The way he strutted about like he owned the place, and his stupid Quidditch skills, everyone nearly bowing before him as if he was a prodigy even though he was barely able to produce any satisfying schoolwork no matter the subject, and his stupid _hair_.

He was infuriating, and he was no little darling. And nothing should hurt like that.

* * *

 _4th year_

Draco looked at Potter, sprawled gracelessly on a bench next to Weasley as if the idiot never left his side - and how was Draco supposed to tell him, if the stupid redhead was always right there ? Both looked utterly bored with everything. They hadn't danced all night, hadn't done anything but wait there. What fun they were having.

As always, the Slytherin was assaulted by a confusing mixture of feelings. He hated that boy, he really did. Or maybe he hated that he didn't. He always and never had at the same time. He'd been his friend, he was his enemy ; he was known territory all the same. He was an anchor to Draco in the chaos of his life, always there, no matter what. And recently... well, he did not want to think about his recent feelings ; not that he had any. He didn't. And he was dead set on fighting them if did. But he didn't.

Potter had walked in, earlier, with the other champions, the Patil girl at his arm – Draco did not know which one, nor did he care. And his traitor heart had _not_ been racing at the sight of him in his impeccable dress robes with a quite pretty girl at his side, and dancing with her, although awkwardly. Potter was no dancer, that much was clear. The Slytherin had also _not_ been way too relieved to see he had all but left her to dance with herself at the first occasion, and gone to sit where he had been all evening.

He would have to crush those feelings – the ones he didn't have – he thought for the umpteenth time. He couldn't afford to think that way about anyone, especially not him.

And he didn't.

Pansy appeared next to him with their drinks. Noticing his thoughtful features, she followed his gaze and frowned. She sighed theatrically.

"Well, I can see I made an impression with that dress. Next time I'll try one with much less fabric, maybe _then_ you'll notice me."

Draco pushed back the flush that threatened to crawl up his cheeks at being caught. He looked at her and smiled. Pansy really was beautiful in that dress.

"Sorry. You do look wonderful, Pans. With or without the dress", he added, and he winked ; Pansy flushed, but looked quite pleased. "Really", Draco went on softly, "You look wonderful every single day. Never doubt that."

Then, as an afterthought : "I was just waiting to see if Potter would embarrass himself by dancing again", he said, forcing a mocking tone out of his lips. Pansy scoffed.

"You shouldn't count on that", she said with a sneer. "No one with his skills would risk it. Though, it's Potter we're talking about..."

It suddenly dawned on Draco that there was a way to do it. He could tell him. He quickly took the opportunity.

"No, you're right", he drawled, and his lips curled in a well rehearsed sarcastic smile. "No choice but to embarrass him myself." With that, he winked at Pansy and walked straight to Potter, leaving her with a drink in each hand.

No chance of that happening, thought Pansy as she watched Draco bow in front of Potter.

"Care for a dance ?" the blonde was asking in a mock-seductive voice, his hand offered to a dumbstruck Potter. One could have believed he was actually hitting on the dark-haired boy, if there wasn't a mocking smirk playing on his lips as he spoke, eyes not living the widened emeralds.

Potter finally seemed to pull himself together.

"What the hell, Malfoy ?" he spat angrily, averting his eyes from the boy's piercing gaze with a slight flush on his cheeks. He seemed to try to dissolve into the bench just to escape it. Next to him, Weasley was trying to get his mouth to stop gaping stupidly.

Draco ignored them altogether. It was his one chance to tell him discreetly, and he wasn't about to let it slip away.

He did _not_ enjoy the mere thought of dancing with the dark-haired boy.

"Why, it is an honor for me, too !" he exclaimed with a blinding smile. With that, he seized Potter's arm and in one movement, lifted the boy to his feet and brought him to rest against his own chest.

The whole room seemed to still ; a fair part of it was obviously waiting for them to punch each other. Maybe Potter would punch him. He struggled to set himself free, but Draco gripped him tightly, an arm placed firmly around his waist and the other holding Potter's hand, fingers linked together. With another mock-seductive smile, he started to whirl them around.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing ?" Potter yelled, and he wished there wasn't a tinge of panic to his voice. His muscles didn't seem to respond so well, either.

"Dancing", Draco replied with a wink.

"What made you think I would want to dance with you, ferret face ?" he spat between his teeth, still trying to shove the blonde away. "This is by far the stupidest joke you ever played on me. Now let – me – go !"

Draco's eyes narrowed and a predatory smile played on his lips. His arm went up Potter's back to keep his head in place while in leaned in himself, getting their faces dangerously close together.

"I'm hurt, Potty. I thought you'd like to have a proper partner once in a while – a _dance_ partner, that is", he added with another wink ; "you know, given your abilities in the matter, one that could actually lead your every moves through this", he purred, his mouth slowly moving up Potter's cheek and getting closer to his ear as the words escaped. Feeling him tensing noticeably, he grabbed the boy more firmly to prevent him from freeing himself. Only then, he spoke again.

"I didn't know how to get close enough to tell you", he whispered urgently ; and Potter tensed some more, probably dreading the next words. Draco took a deep breath, and the whole world seemed to still as his voice rose again.

"I'm... sorry I pushed you away", he murmured gently.

With that, he pushed Potter back, made him whirl with one hand, and let go of him altogether. He bowed, smirk back on his face.

"Thank you for this delicious moment, Mister Potter", he scoffed, and strutted away.

Harry was left to stare numbly after him, not daring to sit back down, not when the world was spinning so fast and Malfoy was just walking away to Pansy Parkinson like nothing had happened, like the whole school wasn't staring at them both as if the world had just come to an end.

"Wh-what the hell ?" Ron's voice was stuttering in the distance.

Harry didn't have an answer to that.


	4. Lover, you should have come over

**Author's note :**

 **So there it is, final version of my fourth Chapter ! Differences are subtle, but they're there, and I like it much better this way. Now, finally on with the story ! I'm starting right now on chapter five ;)**

 **I hope you like it ! Enjoy, and please review :)**

 **Disclaimer : I own no character, place, creature... or anything that obviously belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

Days went by, and turned into weeks. Soon enough, the Second Task came and went, and all Harry could think about were those few whispered words, replaying again and again in his mind.

 _I'm sorry I pushed you away._

Did he even mean that ? He couldn't, not after everything that had happened. But what if he did ?

Did it mean he wanted to start their frienship over from where they left it ? Did Harry want that ? If he did, would he be able to overlook all their history ? Would Hermione and Ron, and all the Gryffindors, accept this ?

Or maybe it meant only what he had said, that he was sorry, but it didn't change a thing between them. But then why say this, why now ?

Was it because Harry was exposed to death in this tournament, and he didn't want to live with this particular regret ? It wasn't his type. And who was to say it was not Malfoy who put his name in the Goblet of Fire in the first place ? But then again, he couldn't have outwitted Dumbledore. Even Fred and George did not manage, though their efforts had been quite spectacular.

In the end, the question remained : what did those words mean ?

The worst part was, as Harry was trying so hard to decipher the hidden meaning of Malfoy's words – if there even was one – the blond git hadn't changed a bit. He was his usual unsufferable self, strutting about the castle with his cronies, traumatizing first years, shooting death glares and shouting abuse to any passing Gryffindor, especially if it was Ron, Hermione or, of course, Harry himself.

If he had wanted things to change, he would have just said it, or acted differently, Harry repeated himself. There would be a sign.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder – and maybe, even, hope.

If he was true to himself, he had never quite stopped hoping that Draco would someday come back. Which was precisely why he could not ignore this. The desire to believe it was real was too strong.

Countless times, he'd considered just asking him what this was about and be done with it. Hell, he'd even considered giving a second chance to their friendship, if that's what Malfoy wanted. He'd considered it very seriously, thinking it over and over. But then, when he'd decide it was time they at least talked this through, Malfoy would do what he always did : screw things up and annoy the hell out of Harry.

He would never change, Harry told himself.

But he's changed once, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. He could change back.

And these words... didn't they mean he might ?

Harry shook his head, clearing it of all thoughts of the Slytherin. The end of the year was near, it was time he concentrated on something _else_ – his last Task, for instance. This was turning into an obsession, and Ron and Hermione – well, Hermione mostly – would no doubt start asking questions if he didn't stop now. They still thought his absences were due to his fear of the Third Task ; and really, it wasn't. Though fast approaching, it still seemed very distant to Harry. Very unreal.

He had told his two best friends – and everyone, really – that Malfoy dancing with him at the Yule Ball was just about making Harry look stupid. Which it probably was, on second thought, and had no doubt been the immediate result. Harry on the dance floor that night must have been as graceful as a duck trying to walk on ice.

He had kept Malfoy's words to himself. It wasn't in distrust, really ; he trusted the two Gryffindors with his life, and he had always told them everything. Except this.

This was the limit. This was too personal, something he himself didn't understand. He wasn't ready to share any of this, with anyone – the fact that he knew Malfoy, in what seemed like another life, or the fact that after having been a dick all these years, he had actually apologised. Well, not for being a dick ; but for pushing him away. For ending their friendship. The very one Harry had held dear to his heart, even after the heartbreak it had caused him.

Maybe Malfoy wanted their friendship to be a secret, Harry reasoned, not for the first time. Maybe he just didn't want to lose face, and that was why he had not come to him again. This was likely enough Malfoy was more than proud. Or maybe he was just waiting to see what Harry would do with his confession. Maybe he waited for Harry to make the second move. He had made the first, after all.

Or it was just a trick, for Harry to try and revive their friendship and cover himself in ridicule yet again. But why ? How ? It wasn't like Harry was going to go hug him in front of the whole school. Or at all.

He flushed a bit as the memory of being forced into Malfoy's arms came back in his head, and he shook it hard to try and clear his mind.

Harry hurried down the stairs, the castle doors in view. He was almost running to Herbology, having forgotten his books after lunch he had told Hermione and Ron not to wait for him, and was therefore alone in the silent castle or so he thought.

He would have made it on time, had he not seen him at this very moment. Malfoy climbed the stairs, white blond hair sparkling in the faint sunlight coming from the high windows, and without so much as a glance to Harry, he hurried past him, as if he hadn't noticed he was there.

They were completely alone. Malfoy could have hurt him in every possible way and gotten away with it, yet he had passed on the opportunity to molest him.

This, along with the fact the he was in a "what if he really wants to be friends" mood, was what made Harry turn around wildly and call out, ignoring his better judgement.

"Malfoy. Wait."

Malfoy froze on the stairs. Not turning back, he glanced at Harry over his shoulder, waiting.

"I uh, I've been thinking", the Gryffindor started cautiously.

That, at least, got a normal response out of Malfoy. He rolled his eyes.

"Well, good for you, Potter. Never knew you had it in you", he drawled, and resumed walking.

"Just... wait !" Harry called. He ran back up the stairs to where Malfoy stood and grabbed his wrist, effectively making him turn around. Malfoy immediately freed it as if Harry had burnt him. "About what you said. At the Yule Ball. I just, I thought, I wanted to..."

"I'll stop you right there, Potter", he interrupted, rising a hand for emphasis. "I meant what I said that night, but that's all there is. It didn't mean anything more. I'm just sorry it happened. That's all."

He had lost his drawling tone momentarily, and Harry was amazed by what his voice could actually sound like ; but stunned by his words, too. He was about to drop it and walk away, but something inside him kept him from moving. He just couldn't take this for an answer. He swallowed.

"It doesn't have to be this way", he murmured. "We could..."

But Malfoy's scoff interrupted him again.

"Yeah, sure, like you'd forgive me." This choice of words wasn't what Harry expected he even thought he detected a hint of bitterness in the boy's voice, but in a second it was all gone, and all about him transpired disdain and hate again. "It has to be this way. What I said back then still stands. You may not be a Muggle, but you might as well be one. We're not from the same world, Potter." He spat the name. "What we had back then was never meant to be, and certainly not now. It's over and shouldn't ever have started."

He looked Harry up and down, his face a mask of disgust.

"Still crying over his past." He tutted. "To think some people actually wonder why I despise you."

He swirled his robes in a very Snape-like manner, and was gone, leaving Harry rooted to the spot.

It all had felt like a big slap in the face, with an added punch in the stomach.

Harry felt breathless, unable to move, or think through the whirl of words echoing inside his head. Tears he didn't know he'd been holding back rolled silently down his cheeks.

It seemed all hope was gone. Draco was but a souvenir, replaced by this stranger that dared to twist his once joyful features in a constant mask of hate.

He could – no, he should – have asked himself why Malfoy had decided to not jump on the opportunity to shout abuse at him in the first place. Or why was his drawl gone for a precious little moment. Or why the bitterness when he evoked forgiveness – or lack thereof.

Or what were those foreign feelings flooding through him like a storm.

He didn't have the courage to ask himself new questions.

* * *

 _Lover, you should have come over – Jamie Cullum_

 _(Draco's POV)_

 _Saint_ Potter just had to make things complicated, didn't he ? He just had to.

Draco fumed. How dare he suggest such a _preposterous_ thing. _Friendship_. Between them ?

He scoffed, almost choking himself in the process. It was as likely as... as Snape and the werewolf having an affair. Another scoff – with a hint of disgust – and this time his throat constricted so much it calmed his anger.

Once he recovered from his coughing fit, he replayed the scene in his mind, sitting by the window of the empty astronomy tower. It was a spot he had found he liked, when he could get rid of the other Slytherins and finally have some time to himself. He really was fond of the loneliness, it seemed. Better this than catching glimpses of stupid Golden Boy batting his long-enough-to-be-a-girl's eyelashes at Cho Chang – who batted hers at Diggory.

And what was he even thinking, now ? He shook his head, and looked out the window, losing his gaze in the distance, way past the castle limits. He felt like he was about to doze off, all of a sudden.

But his mind wouldn't let him succumb to numbness. It provided him with all sorts of images, none of which he managed to focuse on ; yet here they were, dancing within his head, refusing to leave until he agreed to make sense of them.

Harry... Harry ? The name felt foreign, but he looked so young... how could he call this kid Potter ? _Harry_ smiled, and _Harry_ laughed. He did that a lot. _Harry_ rushed in his arms, tears in his eyes ; and that young blond boy held him, a fond smile on his face. Those tiny arms felt good around Harry's tinier shoulders. It felt like that boy could protect him ; like he was important to him. Who was he, again ?

And there was Harry... no, wait, that was Potter, actually. His face was so angry. When had that happened ? Harry had seemed so carefree, just moments ago ; and now Potter seemed so full of hate... But no, here he was again, and he was laughing. Far, far away from him. The blond boy was not a boy anymore ; nor was he protecting the brunette. But he wanted to. He wanted to wound his arms around Potter, as he did with Harry ; but something, somehow, kept him away. He shouted at Potter, scoffed, mocked, smirked. And turned away.

And why did Harry look so heartbroken, all of a sudden ? The boy, the young blond boy, had he just...

Pushed him away.

 _I'm sorry I pushed you away._

Harry... Potter had very specifically said...

It doesn't have to be this way.

It meant he didn't want it to be this way.

It meant forgiveness.

Draco opened eyes he didn't remember having closed. His cheeks felt wet and his eyes stung, which had not happened in the last eight years.

It had to be this way. It really did. To feel this at all was such a big mistake. He had been raised to _not_ feel things like these, for fuck's sake ! He had done _everything_ right. He didn't want this, and Potter was just _Potter_ , with his stupid hair and his stupid glasses and his stupid scar, and his mudblood and blood-traitor friends, and he was worth less than them, disgusting so-called hero that he was, the great Chosen One and all his fame...

Deep down, Draco knew that _Harry_ had never been like that. And Potter's resemblance made it so hard not to feel what he knew he did. They were the same, except for one thing.

Potter was much more broken than Harry had been.

No matter what he'd been taught, no matter how hard he tried, Draco had never forgotten his friend, or the way it felt to even have one.

And all he wished for right now, was for Potter... for Harry to come back, and insist. He wouldn't fight. If only the boy could try again, just _once_ , and force him, make him accept, make him admit that he lo...

He startled at his own thoughts, eyes wide.

He just couldn't keep on being like this.


	5. The thing about love

_**Author's note :**_

 _ **Finally ! I did it, I finished chapter 5. So sorry for the huge delay ! Just know that this story will not stop until it's properly finished (which will take much more chapters, I tell you!) even though sometimes it can take... well a bit long to update !**_

 _ **Now enjoy :)**_

 _ **Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter and everything it goes with, and wouldn't dare to pretend I do.**_

… _..._

 _5th year_

"Harry. Harry !"

The Gryffindor started out of his thoughts. "Uh... Hermione's right", he said automatically, looking around at his friends.

The Great Hall was packed, as it was every morning at breakfast, and the conversations were loud. Harry blinked twice as the rush of sound and light came back to him the moment his mind focused on reality again.

Seated across from him at the Gryffindor table, Hermione looked at him with eyes half reproachful and half amused. Ron, by his side, looked a bit hurt.

Harry eyed them sheepishly, knowing he had been caught not listening again.

"Why do you always think Hermione's right without even listening to what she said ? I could have been right for once !"

"Sorry, mate", said Harry apologetically. "You know she's the brightest of us, so..."

Hermione smiled proudly, as Ron shrugged in acknowledgment.

"I'll have you know we weren't arguing", she informed her friend. It happened often enough in Harry's opinion for him to have guessed right, but he didn't point that out."I was just telling you that Cho is stealing glances at you again." She paused, waiting for his reaction. When none came, she added with a concerned frown : "How are things between the two of you, you know, since..."

"You mean since I accidentally acted against your girl's code on Valentine's day ?" Harry interrupted ironically. Next to him, Ron snickered, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Really, boys, if you want to date a girl, you should be paying a little bit more attention to what she wants. It's easy enough."

Ron spoke up, pointing his egg-covered fork at her.

"And how are we supposed to know what she wants if what she wants is not what she says ? Girls are a different species, I tell you. You're so complicated, sometimes I wonder why I didn't switch to guys yet. Then I think about it" - he shuddered, and the piece of egg planted on his fork shook with him - "and I remember why."

"Your reaction seems a bit homophobic, Ron", Hermione commented, while a piece of bacon got stuck somewhere in Harry's throat. It somehow got worse with his best friend's reply.

"It's not homophobia, 'Mione, it's having enough penis with just one."

"I really don't need to hear about your penis or anyone else's at breakfast, Ron. I never need to hear that, actually. That's highly indelicate – Harry, are you all right ?"

By then, Harry was choking on his food. He swallowed hard, and, feeling the stares of his friends, managed to articulate.

"Hermione should write a book about the way girls actually think and how to read between the lines. She'd be rich within seconds."

"Don't you change the subject", Hermione warned. "Are you going to talk to Cho, and explain ?"

"I... yeah", Harry assured her, knowing the witch wouldn't drop it until he did. She had asked him to do so countless times in the last few days already. "I will. As soon as I get the chance."

Hermione looked satisfied with his answer.

"Good. We should get going, we don't want to be late to Potions." She grabbed her bag and started walking without waiting for the two of them.

"We don't want to be _in_ Potions", Ron grumbled as he got to his feet, after checking that only Harry could hear him. Harry forced a laugh, and was thankful to Hermione's "Hurry up !" for getting Ron's attention away from him again.

Potions was, indeed, the last place he wanted to go to right now, but it wasn't just because of his fear - and dislike – of Snape. His occlumency lessons were enough to dread. No, Potions was about something else, something he was not about to admit to Ron ; especially after the conversation they just had.

He wouldn't talk to Cho Chang. Their disaster of a first date could remain the only one, thank you very much. The scene she'd made in the tea shop had successfully destroyed any spark between them ; and honestly, did she _really_ need to cry everytime they met ? But that was not all of it, Harry knew. He thought of blond and silver and nearly tripped on his own feet.

His life was complete chaos. Umbridge made his life hell, he could barely talk to his friends without starting to yell at them, Dumbledore was infuriating, Voldemort was back and gathering supporters somewhere while he, Harry, secretly trained a bunch of teenagers to defend themselves ; and on top of that, he still managed to mess up his barely existent love life. By having disastrous dates with Cho Chang, all the while thinking that she was not nearly blond enough, or Slytherin enough, or enough of a guy.

He suspected he wouldn't need Hermione's supposed book.

…...

There had been plenty of occasions to make Malfoy pay for his words. The ones he spoke at the Yule Ball, and the ones he spat in the stairs.

There had been plenty of insults, glares, even spells. There had been the fight after Quidditch. Merlin, that had felt right. He could feel all the anger bubbling just beyond the surface make a deeply satisfying break through as his fists connected with bones.

But it had only lasted for a short while. Then, the resentment and powerful hatred, mixed with a strong feeling of loss, had yet again shown their pointy faces, all made of sharp angles and soft looking hair.

He hated Malfoy.

He hated the way he strutted around, Crabbe and Goyle following his every step.

He hated the self-satisfied look he wore all the time.

Hated his drawling voice, and hated every word that came out of his mouth.

Hated that stupid smirk on his face. How he wanted to make that stupid, infuriating smirk disappear.

Only he didn't know if he'd rather punch it or kiss it away.

He inwardly groaned as his potion turned an alarming shade of green – when it as actually supposed to be a glorious Gryffindor red at this point.

He glared at Malfoy again, for good measure. He'd been distracted by him, again, so it was his fault, again.

But by looking over at him Harry found himself admiring his focused features as he aptly brewed his own potion. _Again_.

Malfoy didn't look like Malfoy when he brewed. His face was like someone else's, bare of all smugness and other Malfoy trait, so concentrated he was on the task at hand. That was why Harry dreaded Potions class the most. He felt himself fall for that face every time.

Then, he could not seem to remember how that face looked like with an ugly sneer on it, or that superior look. All he could see was the soft-looking skin, so pale in the dim light of the dungeons, with the cheeks a bit rosy from the heat of the cauldron ; the silvery pools that were his eyes, focused and determined ; the clean and precise movements while he worked. And the hair.

Since he had stopped putting a ridiculous amount of hair gel on his head, Malfoy's hair actually looked quite soft. Incredibly soft, more like. It looked like white blond silk with hints of silver. As he stared at it, Harry wondered for the umpteenth time how it would feel like to run his fingers through it. Or put his head in it.

His potion now emitted a low whistle that it really wasn't supposed to, and Harry stared at it in alarm, then looked up again only to see Professor Snape wearing a very unpleasant smile.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Potter." the man simply said. "At this point I don't think I need to tell you why."

"No, Sir", Harry replied through gritted teeth. Then again, he knew he couldn't deny it was his fault if he'd messed up his own potion. Though he wouldn't admit to that in front of the Potions Master, or any of the Slytherins present in the room at the moment.

"Time is up, everyone." Snape went on. "Each of you will now bring a sample of their potion on my desk so that I can mark your work. Except for you, Potter ; your work is already worth the lowest mark there is, no need to embarrass yourself further. Class dismissed !"

Harry glared at the greasy-haired man's retreating back as he vanished the disgusting substance that was his potion ; he then chanced a last glance at Malfoy, who looked right back at him with a sickening expression of smugness. Too late, then. Harry turned away, somewhat more disgruntled than before. He had already forgotten how this ugly face looked like only minutes ago.

He slid his bag on his shoulder and departed, waiting for Ron and Hermione to leave their sample on Snape's desk and join him.

"Oh, Harry..." Hermione said when she got out of the room, seeming furious. "This infuriating man... he should have at least given you a chance..."

"Let it go, 'Mione," he mumbled as Ron patted his shoulder in sympathy. "I'm just rubbish at Potions, everyone knows that. It wasn't worth anything anyway. Come on, let's go, Charms next."

He chose to ignore Malfoy's smirk as he passed near him ; but could not help the glare as the Slytherin tried with no subtlety to make him trip. Grabbing Ron by the arm to prevent him from retaliating, which he seemed just about to do, he shot the blond one last furious look before storming to Charms.

"Oooh, is that supposed to scare me, Potter ?" Malfoy called after him. Harry gritted his teeth some more and walked faster.

…...

 _The Thing About Love – Alicia Keys_

Harry's bad mood went on all day long ; through Charms, where he never managed to get the wand movement right and nearly stuck his wandtip in Ron's eye ; through lunch, when he watched Malfoy laugh in his own haughty way at everything that stupid cow Parkinson said, and they both sent mocking looks his way ; through Defence Against the Dark Arts where Umbridge had them read another pointless and endless chapter ; and through Transfiguration, where McGonagall wouldn't get off his back until he managed to turn his snail into a bowl, which he never did.

And now, at Dumbledore's Army's meeting, he was feeling quite subdued.

They were going over the spells they had learned lately, so Harry had little to do ; all he needed was to give a piece of advice here and there, or correct a wand movement. Nothing to busy his mind with. Feeling exhausted by the events of the day, he called for the end of the meeting a bit earlier than usual, explaining they didn't have enough time left to learn something new and they should all get some sleep, so the students in his year would all get through Umbridge's test the following morning.

"And don't forget, don't all go at once. You know the routine", Harry added with a yawn, adressing the group of teenagers currently gathering near the door.

He sat with his back on the wall, gratefully noticing that the Room of Requirements had provided him with a soft pillow to sit on seconds before his buttocks touched the ground. He was beginning to have a headache and he pressed his palms against his eyes for a few seconds.

"All right, mate ?" came Ron's voice from above his head. He looked up at the redhead, putting his hands back in his lap, and gave him a tired smile. Behind Ron, he could see the crowd of students had almost cleared out ; near the door, Hermione and Ginny were talking low and stealing concerned glances at him.

"I'm fine, it's just been a long day. I think I'll just sit here a bit, let the headache pass. You go ahead, I'll catch up."

Ron appeared to hesitate. "You sure ? You don't look that well..."

"I'm just knackered, really." He gave his friends the most convincing smile he could manage, and watched them go through the big doors. When it was closed again, he rested his head against the cold stone wall.

He heaved a great sigh that seemed to echo throughout the empty room. He could hear the irony seeping from every last echo. Here, in this very room, he tried his best to teach a bunch of teenagers how to defend themselves against the darkest of Lords ; he prepared for war, a war that had only just begun and so few people knew it. And yet, at this very moment, all he could think about was the way Malfoy's sneers and insults hurt very, very badly, and how he wished he could watch him brewing potions forever just so he would keep on looking like the Draco Harry once knew.

Fuck Voldemort and Harry's own responsibilities ; he wanted to be a real teenager and be in love with people without worrying if they would become a Death Eater like their evil father. And knowing they probably would.

He blew a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. He knew curfew was drawing closer, and he had to get going at once or risk getting caught out of his common room and getting points off Gryffindor – or a detention.

As he closed the great door behind him, it disappeared into the wall. Harry's footsteps echoed through the empty corridors and stairs, just as his thoughts echoed through his head. He was so deeply lost in them, that he didn't notice the sound of another set of footsteps coming his way ; and his whole body collided with the thin limbs and sharp features of the last person he wanted to see.

Draco Malfoy.

Both boys stumbled backwards, shaken out of their respective thoughts by the impact. After a heartbeat, the blond lifted his head sharply, and recognition dawned on his face, right before fury took over his features.

Harry's brain barely had time to provide his mind with a very appropriate "Shit", that he found himself pinned to the nearest wall with a wand under his throat.

"Careful where you walk, Potter", Malfoy spat in low tones.

Harry's heart became frantic and his throat constricted, first at the hand pressed on his shoulder, then at the blond's proximity, and finally, when he could fully register the scene, at the pure anger radiating from the boy. Malfoy was absolutely livid, and Harry had no idea why. It couldn't be because he'd walked right on him instead of past him.

"I would have no regrets turning you into something far less heroic thant the fucking Golden Boy everyone thinks you are", the Slytherin went on, his voice nearly trembling with fury. "No regrets at all. So if you don't want me to hex you into next week, get. Out. Of my way."

Despite his words, Malfoy didn't let go of his hold on Harry, who was at a loss.

"I – you – then let go of me !" he managed to stutter, his eyes never locking on Malfoy's.

The Slytherin withdrew his hand as if Harry had burnt him. He glared some more, looking both angry and confuse, with a hint of despair in his eyes. With a final sneer, he pocketed his wand, turned on the spot and began to walk away.

"The fuck is wrong with you ?" The Gryfindor muttered, rubbing absently at his shoulder. Unfortunately for him, Malfoy was still within earshot, and the words seemed to ignite his already burning anger.

"You ! That's what's wrong with me", he spat while taking slow but menacing steps towards Harry. "You and everything you are, always getting away with everything, playing the hero, thinking eveyrhing can just get fixed because you want to !"

He was getting closer and with every word, his fists tightened until his nails were digging into his palms.

"You're the Boy-who-lived, and you do just what you want, and you have _everything_ ! Everything _I_ should have ! I bloody fucking hate you since the moment I laid eyes on you, and that's never gonna change ! I HATE YOU !"

As the words escaped his mouth, his left hand grabbed Harry by the collar, just as his right fist flew in the air and collided with his jaw. The dark-haired boy was rooted to the spot, incapable of comprehending the scene that was now unfolding before – and on – him. Malfoy's fist hit him again, as continuous stream of "I hate you" escaped his pale mouth frantically.

Then another punch, but the blond did not withdraw his hand to repeat the gesture this time. Instead he opened his fist and grabbed at Harry's jaw with the whole of his palm, all the while lifting the boy by the collar.

Harry did not fully register what had happened before it was over, and Malfoy had backed away with a look of horror on his face. The Gryffindor could still hear his footsepts echoing down the dimly-lit corridor when he ran without looking back. He could still feel the hot pain on the spot where Malfoy at hit him repeatedly.

He could still feel the burning sensation of the blond's lips crashing feverishly on his.


	6. Surprise

_**Author's note :**_

 _ **Guys, I wrote chapter 6 ! Sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it !**_

 _ **Good reading, and please review, I like to know what you think !**_

 _ **Disclaimer : I own nothing and am just writing for my own and the reader's entertainment.**_

* * *

The only acceptable explanation for Harry was that he'd gone insane, and the events of the corridor never happened.

He never crossed path with Malfoy that day, never walked right into him the git had never punched the hell out of his face, and had never left with a kiss he very clearly wished he had not given.

Never.

Except Harry's face still felt like it had found itself on the wrong end of a blast-ended skrewt, and there was no other explanation for that than the fresh memory of Malfoy's fist pressed on it. Clearly the tale of how he had tripped on the stairs on his way to Gryffindor tower and ended up face first in a suit of armor hadn't quite convinced his friends – let alone himself.

Because if that had really happened his whole body would feel sore and his lips would not still be tingling warmly.

If only they would stop.

* * *

"Rough night, mate ?"

Harry jumped at the sound of his friend sliding in the seat next to him at Gryffindor table. He had gone to breakfast early to find Hermione already seated there.

He frowned nervously at the redhead. Had he said something during his sleep ? He tried for nonchalance.

"How d'you know ?"

Okay, not that nonchalant then. Thankfully, Ron didn't seem to notice his unnerved state.

"Heard you tossin' and turnin' in your sleep all night", he said apologetically, while helping himself to an indecent amount of bacon. "Pretty bad, too. Sorry, Harry. I know you don't like it. Hard not to hear, though." He gave an akward shrug. Hermione, who'd been reading her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , pinned Harry with a sharp glare.

"Is it the same dream again ? Is it him, and that door ? You said you'd work on your occlumency, Harry, this is important, you can't let you-know-who into your head..."

"No, no, Hermione, don't worry," Harry tried to cut across his friend's tirade. "It was just, just regular, not Voldemort-related nightmares", he added, thinking of not-so-nightmarish lips on skin and hands caressing strands of silvery hair and -

Harry caught a glimpse of grey eyes across the Hall and felt his heart speed up as his cheeks flushed.

"Yeah, normal bad dreams. That's all", he finished lamely.

Hermione looked unconvinced, as always, but she dropped the subject. If only she knew.

Harry had already tuned out all sounds of the Great Hall, anyway. The look of nervousness on Malfoy's face, barely concealed by his usual sneer, had sent his mind whirling.

Malfoy had kissed him, and it could not have happened by accident or for no reason at all.

And Harry was dead set on kissing him again.

* * *

Harry caught Malfoy's eyes a lot that day. Malfoy inevitably sneered at him in disgust, and Harry just stared as intently as he could, which seemed to infuriate and unnerve the blonde to no end. By the end of the day, his face was more aggressive than ever, while Harry's remained impassive, although red with the memory of their latest close encounter.

He could never manage to find him alone, though, and _that_ was grating on his nerves.

The next days were much the same, to Harry immense disappointment. He was starting to question the reality of the kiss he kept replaying in his head ; but Malfoy's increasing agressivity in the face of his staring and the tingling of his lips everytime their eyes did meet was enough confirmation that it had really happened.

Harry felt alive now more than he had in months. The DA meetings were going really well, the members learning quickly ; and though he wasn't brilliant in classes, he managed to get through thanks to Hermione. His friend's support was getting him through Umbridge's detentions and Dumbledore's silence.

But mostly, it was the thrill of chasing Malfoy that kept the blood pumping loudly through his veins, life flowing through his body like fire.

And finally, after days of staring at him and looking for his dot on the Marauder's Map, Harry got his chance.

It was almost curfew again, the corridors mostly deserted. But Malfoy was there, making his way from the almost empty library, and Harry quickly hid himself around the next corner and waited for him.

He lunged at the last second, grabbing the boy by the collar and keeping him in place against the wall with his arm pressed against his throat, much like the blonde had done days ago. He looked into the grey eyes with all the intensity he could muster, and realised with a mingled sense of shame and satisfaction that they were looking back with fear – quickly replaced by angry defiance.

"What happened the other day," Harry begun. Now he found himself internally struggling for what to say – or do. He could just kiss Malfoy, but what if Harry had made it all up in his head ? What if it wasn't at all what Malfoy wanted ? What if he bit Harry ?

Fortunately for him, Malfoy didn't need more incentive to reply.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Scarhead", he spat. "Let go of me."

Harry just stared at him some more. Malfoy's voice was a low hiss as he went on.

"I do have a wand, you know. Let go of me before I hex you into next - "

"You kissed me", Harry blurted out at last, interrupting him.

Malfoy immediately blanched. Had he thought Harry wouldn't have noticed the lips pressed on his ?

"I – I didn't – I did NOT - !" the blond stuttered, and Harry, hurt and anger slowly building at this denial, pressed his arm tighter still.

"You did", he said lowly, his face now inches from Malfoy's. The grey eyes narrowed, and his teeth bared. Harry still found his features beautiful, even in this so inelegant state, he realised. He shivered.

"So what if I did, uh ?" Malfoy attacked. "What will you do about it ? You can't prove it, no one would believe you. You have nothing against me."

"It's not that !" Harry replied hotly. He felt himself flush. Merlin, did this git have to make everything complicated ? Crushed under his weight, Malfoy was obviously losing patience.

"So what, then ?" he cried desperately. "What is it you want ? For me to apologise ? Never in your dreams, Potter !"

"I want to do it again", Harry muttered. He felt foolish now, saying this aloud. He should have just kissed the Slytherin prat and risked getting punched again.

Malfoy made no move when Harry's grip on him slackened. He seemed rooted to the spot.

"You what ?" he breathed.

"You heard me !" Harry spat defensively. He took a step back, retrieving his arm, and seriously considered just running for it. This had been a terrible idea. Now it would be Malfoy making fun of _him_ , and Harry wouldn't stand that sort of humiliation. But then Malfoy gave an incredulous laugh.

"And how do you _think_ this would go, uh ? That we'd go on dates in Hogsmead, eat lunch together by the lake, kiss in corridors before classes ? Is that what you had in mind, you moron ?" He paused and stared desperately into Harry's face. The Gryffindor just stared back, eyes wide.

"You're Harry bloody Potter and I'm Draco fucking Malfoy. We can't be friends, and we can't be – more. I told you once and I'm telling you again. This is not happening."

He made to turn around and leave, but was stopped short by Harry's voice.

"No one has to know", he murmured quickly.

It was Malfoy's turn to stare with wide eyes.

"No one has to know", Harry repeated, louder this time. "I mean, I don't know what this is. It doesn't have to be anything." The words rushed out of his mouth and he had to fight not to stutter. "But, if that's what you want, and that's also what I want, couldn't we just... you know, enjoy it ?"

The implied _while it lasts_ hung in the air between them, but Harry still looked at Malfoy – Draco ? - with hopeful eyes.

"You have no idea what you're getting into", Malfoy warned. Harry replied immediately.

"I don't care."

"How could you even want that, after everything I did to you and your friends ?"

Malfoy's whole face was alive now, free of that stupid mask Harry hated so much. His eyes were a mess of emotions – denial, resistance, and a desperate hope. It made the Gryffindor more certain of his answer.

"I know you", he simply said.

"We were kids", the blonde reminded him tiredly, knowing what he was referrinf to. "We didn't even think the other was real. We thought we were dreaming."

"I don't care", Harry repeated. "It was real then, and it's real now."

Malfoy looked defeated somehow.

"This is what you want ? Really ? To date someone everybody hates, as _you_ are supposed to ? To hide, to not be able to tell your friends, to keep it all a secret ?" His face clouded suddenly. "What about Cho Chang then ? What about all those girls who would give everything to date the Boy-Who-Lived ?"

Harry gave a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Trust Malfoy to make this conversation hell.

"Cho Chang was a mistake – and a disaster. And I don't care about all those girls, I don't want _them_!"

The tiniest hint of a smug smile tugged at the blonde's lips, but he contained himself. Harry was desperate for the smile to actually blossom on his face, so he went on.

"And of course hiding is not what I want. For Merlin's sake, I just want to be able to register what's happening the next time you – we – I mean," he flushed severely at not being able to find his words, "if having – this, whatever this is – means hiding, then I will happily hide. I don't care about the rest. I'm sure of this."

And he really was, he realised. He would give anything to have Malfoy's lips on his at this very moment, but he didn't dare do it without the approval of said Slytherin. His face still sported a bruise where he'd been punched. So he just held his breath, waiting for Malfoy's final answer.

He was not disappointed.

"You will be the death of me", Malfoy sighed loudly, the picture of exasperation ; but he had trouble containing his smile, and Harry did not even try to hide his own. His heart beat faster still when Malfoy took a step forward, but the sudden stern expression on his face had panick rise in his stomach. What now ?

"Curfew", the blonde simply said with raised eyebrows.

"Right, curfew", Harry repeated, disappointment evident in his voice. He'd forgotten about bloody curfew.

Malfoy smirked at that, that superior, smug smirk of his, and grabbed Harry's chin with one hand. He planted a firm kiss on his lips, feeling the Gryffindor's surprised sound more than hearing it. Pulling back slowly, he looked into green eyes and murmured, "Don't make me regret this".

With that, he was gone, leaving Harry rooted to the spot once more.

* * *

 _Loving you – Paolo Nutini_

"This has got to stop."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter, who had ambushed him – _again –_ in some deserted corridor. It had only been yesterday, and he already started regretting his decision. That git would get them caught in no time.

"Already ?" Draco drawled, but he felt a bubble of fear rise in his stomach. Had Potter thought better of it ? Had he rushed into this without realising it was _Draco_ and therefore not someone he actually liked in the first place ? Had that second kiss been that bad ?

But Potter waved him off impatiently.

"Not that ! That surprising-me thing that you keep doing. Well stop doing it ! Just... warn me next time you plan on... you know !"

 _Ah._ Draco felt immense relief flood through him. Meanwhile, Potter was blushing a deep red, which Draco found terribly endearing – just like the way Potter seemed unable to utter the word "kiss". Draco decided with a mischievous grin that he would gladly say it for him.

"What, you mean _kiss,_ Potter ?" Said boy blushed all the more. "You want me to warn you everytime I'm about to _kiss_ you, is that it ?" The look on his face was definitely priceless. "Why, that will involve a lot of talking, because I do plan on _kissing_ you quite often. Actually," he went on mercilessly, as the Gryffindor shuffled uneasily before him, "I'm about to _kiss_ you right now."

And before Potter could register his words, he grabbed the other boy's hips, and kissed him.

He quickly ended it, though, as his first thoughts crept back to the forefront of his mind. He took a hasty step back.

"Someone might see us", he told a still surprised and spluttering Potter. "Stop ambushing me, I'll send you a note."

With a final look around, he strode off to his next class.

* * *

Harry waited, but no note came that day. Still, he obeyed Malfoy and didn't try to meet him without his consent. Someone had visited their corridor a mere minute after Malfoy had departed, and Harry had instantly realised that in his haste, he could have gotten them caught when it had barely started.

Looking at the ceiling above his four-poster bed, he thought about it all once more.

Was it a relationship ? Was Malfoy his boyfriend ? But it couldn't be called that. Malfoy had only kissed him three times – and Harry had been surprised every single time, which meant they hadn't _shared_ a proper kiss yet. And then there was the hiding thing, and the fact they both knew it would have to end someday.

But Harry didn't want to think about that, not when he finally had what he wanted. He did not want to think that it would _ever_ end, just like Maldoy apparently hadn't wanted to entertain the possibility that it could ever start.

 _Why_ Malfoy had actually started it was a question Harry still had to find an answer to, but there would be time to discuss that later.

That Malfoy was a boy as well as Harry was as confusing as it had been when Harry had first caught himself admiring Malfoy's face during Potions, and Harry wasn't sure he was ready to think about what this would entail if their... relationship was to evolve somehow.

And despite all these interrogations, what surprised Harry the most was that it all felt right. It was like it was always going to be this way ; like it had always been him. He wondered if the "dreams" of his childhood, like he still called them, had anything to do with that.

"Hey, Ron ?" he asked suddenly, hoping that his best friend wasn't asleep – but that the other boys in the dorms were, preferably.

"Mmh ?" came the sleepy replied. Harry couldn't help a smile.

"Do you... do you believe in soul mates ?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, and probably failing again. He really wasn't good at nonchalance.

"Why ?" Ron sounded more awake, and quite hopeful all of a sudden. "Do you think I've found mine ?"

"Er..." Harry replied, taken aback. He certainly wasn't thinking about Ron when he'd asked.

"'Cause, I mean, I could have, you know ? We do know girls. What d'you think ?"

"Er.." Harry repeated. He had no idea how Ron would react if he dared mention Hermione. It seemed obvious only to him.

Ron seemed to deflate a bit when no answer came.

"Or not. I mean, can't be just one girl meant for me, can there ?" He forced a laugh as he lay back down on his bed. "Nah, it's just crap anyway. _Soul mates_ ", he scoffed.

Harry said nothing. He didn't really know why he'd asked. When the silence stretched on, Ron added, "Well, goodnight, mate."

"Right. Goodnight", Harry repeated.

He closed his eyes, and as he fell asleep, he dreamt of silver orbs and smiles on soft lips, and a child's laughter that felt warm as the sun.


End file.
